Target
by Creatividadqueamo
Summary: Bruce and Clint are unlikely but close friends after the Loki incident. When Clint offers to help refine the Hulk's skills, they only grow closer. A threat arises that makes Clint realize how much Bruce means to him. Clint will do anything to protect him, and wants nothing more than to be with him. Thankfully, Clint never misses his target. Shameless BruceClint slash.
1. Chapter 1

A note from the author~ This is my first slash, so please let me know what you think of it. Also, if you don't like slash, don't read it ok? Reviews will be rewarded with love, puppies, and taco bell. Thank you

Chapter one: Tricks to Winning an Argument 

"This is depressing."

"That's because it's the wrong version. Lacrymosa is not a depressing song; Evanescence is just a depressing band. Forget the music; just stop touching the equipment."

Bruce could be so impatient sometimes.

"I don't believe you." Clint smirked and watching the scientist carefully; he seemed to ignore the archer and focused on his work with unrelenting intensity. Oddly enough, the Hulk made that same face when he was concentrating on destroying something in the most painful way possible.

"So… you done yet?"

"Clint, why are you here?" Bruce looked up from his work with an incredibly annoyed expression; he has the best self-control known to man, but still managed to get ticked off by a lowly SHIELD agent. Clint felt a pang of pride at his accomplishment.

"I told you I wasn't going to leave you alone until-"

"No." Bruce fixed Clint with a dangerous glare; he refused to reopen this argument. Clint could help but flinch away from the fear lurking in the man's endless, brown eyes.

He laughed it off, pretending that Bruce's self loathing didn't make him want to kill things and cry while doing it. "You're ridiculously stubborn. You know only good can come of it."

"Clint, you and Stark are the only real friends I've got. I'm not about to risk the life of one of the only people I have, for any reason." Bruce's gaze had softened some, but Clint could still see his resolve.

Clint gave him a pained look. "That's so hypocritical. You're killing yourself with guilt because you can't control him, but I'm not allowed to help you fix it. I'm not allowed to save myself from losing one of my only friends, because you're paranoid."

Bruce's sigh was a very familiar sound to Clint. It often appeared when Bruce was thinking something along the lines of how-does-someone-have-such-a-good-argument-whilst-acting-like-a-child-and-pouting-to-boot.

You know things are bad when your friends start reading your thoughts based on the length of your exhalations.

"He likes me, Bruce. He goes out of his way to help me during battles. Do you really think he'll start hating me now?" Clint moved forward and put a reassuring hand on the scientists shoulder.

"What makes you think that he'll tolerate being trained? He's not a pet, Clint; he's a monster." Bruce was still clinging to his refusal, but Clint sensed that victory was at hand. Bruce really should've seen it coming; the archer never missed his target.

"He acts like a child most of the time. I think that he'll respond well to being taught. I've already got Stark building a gym big enough and strong enough for him to refine his skills without escaping. Also, maybe if he gets out more often, he won't be so hard for you to contain." At this point, Clint was practically massaging the scientist's shoulders. He was always easier to persuade when there was physical contact involved, though Clint hadn't quite figured out why. He suspected it had something to do with being lonely for so long.

"What's the point of refining his skills? They only want him to destroy things, not make strategic decisions." Bruce tried to pretend like he was still working, shuffling papers with complex equations and molecular structures.

"But you want him to have less collateral damage. That's all I care about; if he can become a little more coordinated, he'll destroy fewer buildings, threaten fewer lives." Bruce visibly stilled.

"It's still too dangerous for you."

"Dude!" Clint threw his arms up in exasperation. "I jump off buildings and shoot arrows at aliens for a living. I'm a god damn assassin. You really think I can't handle a few training sessions?" He glared at Bruce playfully.

"Clint…" The tortured look on Bruce's face showed how conflicted he really was.

"Please?" Clint broke out the pleading look he saved for special occasions. It had even worked on Fury once, though he had never been able to use it on him again. The word please was also an uncommon thing for him.

Tricks like that are why Clint always wins arguments.

Seeing that Bruce had caved, Clint grinned from ear to ear and clapped his friend on the back. "Great! We'll start as soon as Stark's done with the Hulk gym."

Bruce just sighed sadly and shook his head, trying not to imagine how terribly the situation could play out.

Clint looked over his shoulder on his way to the door, flashing his usual mischievous smile. "I could have him paint it all purple for you."

"Just go, Clint."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Warnings and Bodies

A grumpy Bruce Banner stood in the middle of a huge gymnasium with the most complex equipment and challenging obstacle course he'd ever seen. It also had the new Stark reinforced walls. "Completely Hulk proof. I tested them on Thor," Stark had said while a very angry Thor tried to beat his way out of a smallish room with no success.

"This is unbelievable." Bruce told Clint once Tony had left, taking Thor with him.

"I know. It's awesome. It took me four hours to get through the obstacle course. I want to get Steve in here to see if he can beat me. First, we'll see how the hulk does." Clint gave Bruce an excited grin and walked over to a simple counter where a few thigs had been lain out.

He threw Bruce a pair of pants made of a slippery fabric that Bruce didn't recognize. "What's this?"

"You're new battle suit. It will contour to your body, no matter what size it is. So even after you shrink back to size, it won't be stretched out." Clint focused back on the computer. "Tony, installed Jarvis and he will be monitoring your vitals; if you get too aggressive the place will get locked down and I will be rescued."

Bruce hesitated slightly, while putting on the pants. Clint pretending he wasn't looking. "I still don't think this is a good idea."

"You don't have to. Now c'mon, time to Hulk out." Bruce hesitated, unsure how to proceed without hurting Clint. Fear surrounded and emanated from him like body heat. Clint gave him a reassuring smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

"If this doesn't work out, I'm holding you solely responsible."

"Good."

"Hulk, I know you know better." A month and a half of training had taught him nothing about maturity. He was holding Clint upside down from his leg. This would be funny to Clint if he wasn't dressed in a very expensive suit and late for Tony's benefit thing. Correction: the benefit that he _and_ Bruce were late for.

"Hulk no want to go." He furrowed his eye brows and pouted slightly. Clint thought it was cute despite the fact that he was a giant rage-monster. He would never let Hulk know that though; the stern look on his face was told the Hulk just how much he cared about the Hulk's current aversion to going to sleep.

When it came to the Hulk, Clint's soft side usually made its way to the lime light; he loved the big guy. He trusted the big guy because he knew that there was nothing on planet Earth that would turn him against Clint, and he knew nothing would ever take him away.

Bruce got to see it through the Hulk and got small tastes of it when they were alone. The rest of the time he was closed off but covered it under a mask of mischief and humor.

The Hulk assessed Clint's disappointment and irritation with a chagrined face and gently set the archer down. He hung his head and let out a low, sad growl. "Don't be like that, Jade Jaws." Clint gave him a pat on the arm and caught his fluorescent, green eyes.

The Hulk nodded sadly and closed his eyes, starting the transformation process. It was always volatile; sometimes it took seconds and others it took hours. Clint thought it had something to do with Bruce's mood when the transformation started.

After about ten minutes of agonizing reconfiguration, Bruce was back. Clint had trouble looking back at him after the transitions; the pain of being remade made him remember Loki and the pain of resisting him. He shuddered at the memory.

"Did you ring my suit?" Bruce asked quietly, knowing full well what Clint was thinking about.

Clint just nodded to the table where Bruce's suit was lad out of him. They were an hour late for the benefit, but Clint didn't rush him. He stayed quiet; his assassin mask was on and steady when they walked out of the training tank. In anticipation of social exposure, Clint often closed himself off more than usual.

The neutrality on his face made Bruce flinch. He couldn't imagine how he made it through the first months of knowing Clint when he looked like that all the time. After a minute, Bruce missed Clint's cheerful smile.

"You should try smiling for the benefit. The girls will go wild."

Clint snorted, his mask still firmly in place. "I never had luck with girls, and you're one to talk, Mr. Wall flower."

Bruce felt a blush sneak up him cheek bones and he ducked his head a little bit. It wasn't his fault that he was afraid of people.

They let the subject drop and made their way to the hall that the benefit for artificial lung transplants and organ research that Tony had decided to host for Coulson, who had almost died waiting for a replacement lung. Thankfully, he pulled through.

They walked in the front entrance side by side, much to the delight of the press. After being bombarded by the hordes of hungry reporters, Clint made his way to the bar, and Bruce stood by Tony. He always acted as a shield for Bruce when the press were being entirely too vicious.

The benefit was boring and exhausting as all of Tony's big events were. Clint out drank a majority of people at the bar and hadn't even started slurring. Bruce was letting his mind wander to molecular physics and nuclear fission. Steve and Tony were still entertaining the masses with a reluctant and confused Thor. The black widow was sulking in the corner, completely unapproachable in every way.

By the time things were coming to a close and people were starting to leave, Clint was completely hammered, though someone that didn't know him wouldn't be able to tell. Tony had him escorted back to the mansion with Natasha, fearing that they would start some sort of destruction in their inebriated states. Thor had long since fallen asleep in the bathroom.

Steve was as chipper and energetic as ever and Tony was getting a little tipsy. No one noticed when Bruce snuck out to the court yard and started walking home. He had a talent for being invisible to people who weren't looking for him. He was a slight man, his curly hair and brown eyes were forgettable to someone who didn't take the time to appreciate them.

He didn't notice anyone following him until he had stepping through the front doors of Stark tower and saw the man skid to a halt and turn around outside the big glass door. He felt a jolt of fear and rushed to the private elevator. He went directly up to the assassin's shared floor, knowing they were home. When he stepped out of the elevator he knocked on Clint's door and heard an arrow strike one of the walls before Clint got up to answer the door.

His eyes were a little red and he was a little disheveled, but he didn't look really drunk. The only real give away was the arrow in the wall; it was a whole inch off from the dead center of the target.

"What's up, buddy?" Clint asked a little sleepily.

"I thought I saw someone following me when I walked home; guess I'm still paranoid." Bruce blushed a little and chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Clint waved him in and went back to where he'd put his bow down. He turned back to Bruce just in time for the dart to hit him in the neck. The open window was at the perfect level for it, but Bruce hadn't heard it in time to think of dodging. His eyes widened and he stumbled forward, falling to his knees.

Clint was instantly, painfully sober. He drew his bow and found his target in the adjacent building. The sniper had left his lit scope on, making himself easy pickings for the master assassin. Clint knew right away that Ross had decided to make a move after waiting for two years.

It would take a lot more than a sniper to endanger Bruce while Clint was there.

Jarvis had locked the tower down the second the threat was detected. The windows locked down and the doors locked; all unauthorized persons were sealed tight in the rooms they had been.

"Agent Barton, it seems that sixteen military personnel have entered the tower and are locked in the stairwell." Tony had prepared for this eventuality. Jarvis was to ask if they had a sanctioned warrant, which, of course, they didn't, and inform the police.

"Great, the cops are on their way?" Clint still had his eye on the adjacent building, where the tranq arrow was still visible sticking out of the other snipers arm. He wished he could have killed him.

"Yes, sir."

Clit response was interrupted by a ground shaking explosion; the military apparently didn't like being locked in stairwells. Barton laid out his weapons, several pistols, a small automatic weapon, and his bow and prepared for them to come in the room. Natasha showed up first, nearly getting an arrow in the eye by bursting threw the door.

She took in the weapons and Bruce's limp form and took up a defensive position facing the door like Barton. He knew from the painfully determined and neutral expression on his face that he was pissed. Clint was never anything but calm when he had a bow in his hand.

When the military made the mistake of kicking down the door and throwing in a smoke grenade, they were ready for them. Natasha kicked the grenade back into the hall, much to their surprise, and took out the first soldier brave enough to come in the room.

It was kind of sad that, even drunk as she was, she could so easily destroy trained military men.

Clint stuck to tranq arrows even though anger was boiling in his gut; he wanted to gut each and every one of them. When Iron Man arrived, all of the task force that Ross had sent were unconscious and awaiting the arrival of the police. Clint had moved Bruce to his bed and was bandaging his neck.

"I feel like Ross would have planned this out better." Tony stared at the destruction with a forlorn expression.

"I feel like it was a warning." Natasha didn't take her eyes off Clint who was staring at Bruce with a dark, unreadable expression. "He's letting us know he's going to take Bruce by force."

Clint's head snapped up. "Over my dead fucking body."

Another Note from the author: I should really put angst and drama as my genres, but I like to trick people. I hope you guys give reviews; I'll seriously give up and move on if you don't. I'm not selfless enough to write without recognition. ~CQA


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: Feelings and Safe Prisons

Clint took Bruce to the training center while he was still unconscious, knowing that he would be very upset when he woke up. He had pulled up a chair near where Bruce lay and was staring at Bruce with scary intensity.

While his face only showed his intense scrutiny and watchful eye, his mind was a battle field of emotion and rapid fire curses. Since the attack, he'd been struggling to contain an all new kind of anger; he'd felt bitter hatred before (for Loki specifically), but it paled in comparison to the uncontrollable need to torture Ross to death.

Even worse was that he needed to come to terms with the reason he was so angry. As much as the rest of the Avengers loved Bruce, they weren't battling the urge to murder an American Army General in cold blood. Clint begrudgingly admitted that his feelings for Bruce had developed some from their original brotherly bond.

Unfortunately, that thought led Clint to the undeniable fact that Bruce was incredibly attractive. Naturally, he'd noticed this before, but he'd never seen Bruce in _that_ way.

No going back now.

Clint studied every plane and every arch on the unconscious doctor's body, trying to sort out his feelings. He had known he found men attractive as well as women after being in the military for a few months, but he never thought he'd act on it. He didn't like feeling inexperienced.

So if he did like Bruce, how could he tell him? As far as Clint knew, Bruce still missed his (ex?) girlfriend, Betty. They only occasionally turned to such painful topics. Naturally, if Bruce didn't feel the same way, it would ruin their friendship forever. It would kill Clint to lose Bruce, especially after al the fuss Bruce had made about losing one of the only people he had.

Just as Clint's confusion began to morph into depressed acceptance, Bruce stirred. After a slow blink, he shock straight up and was in a crouched position faster than Clint, who was still staring at him, could track with his eyes. Clint stood up and put both hands up in surrender.

"It's ok, buddy. You're safe." Bruce was turning slightly green, but gained control after seeing that he was with Clint in a familiar environment. Clint was grateful for the training center; it made his life a million times easier.

It was also the safest place in the country to hide Bruce from the military.

Bruce nodded and shook off his alarm, standing to his full height. Clint couldn't stop himself from walking forward and giving him a brisk hug. Bruce seemed a little surprised but hugged back regardless. "What happened exactly?"

"The sniper took you out with a very powerful sleep drug; it would have killed anyone else. They sent in about sixteen guys to retrieve you, but Ross didn't count on Natasha and I being there. They're all in SHIELD headquarters." Clint's emotionless mask made Bruce nervous.

"You were both stone cold drunk."

"Yeah."

"I don't think Ross would have expected such a small force to be able to bring me in; he would have been more prepared." Bruce could sense there was something Clint wasn't telling him.

Clint's mask wavered, his anger peaking threw in his eyes and tense muscles. "It was a warning. Fury can't do anything, because Ross will refute any charges by saying you're a fugitive, and there's a lot of politics involved." He stopped and took a breath. He was going to continue but saw something in Bruce's face that made him stop. "Running will result in death. I guarantee I will find you, and I will shoot you; then I will make a dress out of your skin and sell it on eBay."

Bruce gave his a disbelieving look that also told him how happy he was that Clint wanted him to say. It still scared Clint that he could see right through his dead serious threat to see the subtext please-don't-leave-me underneath.

"Ok then. What's your plan?" Bruce smiled sadly at him.

"I'm going to kill Ross." Bruce paled visibly. "And you're going to stay in this facility while I do it. Tony already coded it so only the Avengers can come in; we'll keep you safe. In the mean time, you just stay put until the threat's gone."

Bruce seemed to struggle for coherent sentences and arguments to stop Clint as he turned to walk out, but only managed gibberish. "But- I'm- you're- no- Ross- You can't- and what- how can- whit if- wait- Clint!" Bruce's eyes were wild with panic when Clint turned to look at him before the door closed.

The air lock hissed, sealing Bruce inside; Clint sighed in relief, knowing he was safe.

"No. No. No. No. No. No." Bruce was pacing back in forth; panic wrapped its cold claw around his neck. Bruce had realized some time ago that he was in love with Clint Barton; well, the Hulk had figured it out first. They both loved him in their own way.

Brue kept replaying the conversation over in his mind, trying to decipher Clint's little slips in expression. There had been something he was trying to hide from the doctor, but Clint was too good for him to get a read of it. Bruce felt his heart squeeze when he heard Clint's words play in his head again.

"_I'm going to kill Ross." _

_Clint is a master assassin; this is what he does for a living_, Bruce tried to reason with himself. He couldn't manage to weed out the fear of Clint getting caught or getting killed. What if Ross hurt him? He'd never be able to live with that guilt. All the control he'd gained, that the Hulk had gained, during their training with Clint would be eradicated in the three seconds it would take for someone to tell Bruce that Clint had died trying to defend him.

Bruce could feel his control slipping. _Why not? I'm in the Hulk Tank, it's not like he can get out. _Bruce succumbed to the other guy and let his plagued mind rest.

The Hulk was left to deal with the worrying. "Cupid?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: The Jolly Green Giant Borrows Cupid's Arrows

Tony was trying to drown his worries in work rather than alcohol; it was almost as effective but lacked his normal pizzazz. He got bored with it pretty fast.

His mind kept wandering to Bruce locked away in the Hulk proof gym. He hated knowing that he was containing one of his only real friends that way. He felt like Bruce was just trading captors; instead of being held by Ross, he gets to stay in Hotel Stark. Slogan: _check in while you're unconscious and stay until we say so!_

Tony gave up on work and grabbed some scotch. Clint's plan was another thing that bothered him; he hadn't been told, but he knew. He feared that he'd get caught, wither by SHIELD or the military, but he feared more that once Ross was gone, another would rise to take his place.

Going public about the Hulk could help. Ross would have no qualms about lying if they were accused of taking Bruce though; even if the public knew anything, Ross would still try to take him. What's the public going to do about it?

But then, Ross had an obsession with the Hulk that was insatiable. Perhaps he was the only one keeping the search going. He was a war hero; it's not like the government would fight him on it.

Tony sighed and chugged his liquor. Bruce would be ok so long as he stayed in the gym. Ross couldn't get him there.

"Sir, it seems that the Hulk is trying to escape the training facility." Tony took a brief moment to mourn the days when Jarvis would bring him good news.

"Are the walls holding up?" Tony spun his swivel chair over to the work desk, pulling up monitors and schematics that only he (and possibly Bruce) could understand.

"They seem to be holding up well, sir. However, it seems that he is trying attempting to localize his blows, and the statistical probability of eventual structural failure is rising." Tony squeezed his eyes shut and cursed himself for stupidity. He hadn't thought the hulk would be hitting the wall in one place for a long period of time.

His options were becoming more and more limited; he didn't want to have to sedate his friend. "Where is Agent Barton?"

"He is currently at SHIELD headquarters, sir. Shall I call him for you?"

"Just tell him what's going on."

The text message from Jarvis made Clint go a little pale; it didn't take a genius to know why he was trying to get out. Clint closed his suitcase, now filled with all the things he'd need to go off the reservation, and headed out of HQ. He could spare the time to calm the Hulk down; it had been rude of him to leave without saying good bye anyway.

He was about to step out of the building when a strong hand closed over his shoulder. He spun, ready for a fight as any good spy would be. He was met instead with Phil.

"Oh. What did Fury say I did this time?" Clint's mischievous mask barely covered his sharp need to beat the shit out of anyone who could sneak up on him. He was too distracted.

"Nothing. I was just wondering why you were strutting out of HQ with a suitcase full of weapons." _Damn those sun glasses_.

"My room in the tower seemed a little empty; I thought it would feel homier if I had some weapons on the wall." The lie slipped off his tongue before he realized how unlikely it seemed under the circumstances.

"Is that so? You better be on your way then." He turned to go. "Oh, and Clint? Tell Ross I said hi." Clint grinned broadly. That's why he loved working for SHIELD.

It took him all of ten minutes to make it to the training facility. He had gotten twelve texts from Tony, pestering him about how quickly he was moving. _Dude, the Jolly green giant is going to break my walls if you don't move your ass. _At least his texts were entertaining. The walls still had a good three hours of constant beating before they gave up, but Tony was afraid that Bruce might hurt himself. His worry was infectious.

Clit hurried into the building, going through all the security checkpoints and slipping through the tiny door farthest from where the Hulk was roaring and beating on the wall. The floor shook and his green fists looked almost as if they were bruised.

"Hulk!" Clint had to scream over the pounding and roaring. It took a few more tries to get his attention but his reaction was worth it.

The Hulk looked up at Clint, who was standing on top of one of the destroyed obstacle walls, throwing pieces of shredded punching bag at him. "C'mon Jade Jaws, stop trying to break Stark's fancy walls." He just stared at Hulk for a minute, then he broke into a wide grin and ran up to where he was perched.

He pulled Clint into a bear hug, squeezing the air out of him. For the Hulk that was surprisingly gentle. The second time they trained, the Hulk had broken four of Clint's ribs in a similar hug. Clint was still impressed that he managed to hide it from Bruce.

"C'mon big guy. I know you don't want to be locked in here, but this is the only place we'll be sure you're safe. I don't want to have to worry about you twenty four seven." The hulk's grin dropped a little as he looked down at the Clint, whose feet had just found the floor.

"Cupid stay." The dead serious demand in the Hulk's eyes made Clint stop.

"I've got something I've got to do, buddy. You know that. I don't want you to have to stay here forever." He had never been able to convince the Hulk of much; he wasn't sure this was going to end well.

"No. Bruce no want Cupid go." Clint stared at the Hulk open mouthed.

"But I thought- you can- what- Um… are you talking to Bruce now?" Clint tried not to start hyperventilating. He had never known that the Hulk and Bruce communicated. He had told the Hulk a lot of things he didn't know Bruce would here. A slight blush threatened to surface, but his composure stayed dead set as always.

The Hulk just stared at him intently, his demand still standing. Clint stared back waiting for his answer. He was impatient though.

"I'll make you a deal; I'll stay if you answer my questions." The Hulk nodded his head and plopped down on the ground in the graceless way that had always made Clint laugh.

"So do you talk to him?"

The Hulk shook his head; Clint sighed in relief. "Banner talk to Hulk."

_Shit. _"What's he say?" Clint wondered why, if he was talking to the Hulk, Bruce couldn't remember hulking out.

"Bruce love Cupid."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: Power and Love

Emotion had always been a weakness of Clint's; even before he was an agent, he had tried to eliminate his troublesome feelings, but he'd only ever managed to cover them up. Naturally, after so many years of putting up a neutral front, Clint was very good at masking his overwhelming emotions in the face of disturbing news.

He didn't handle this news quite as well.

The Hulk noted this after twenty minutes of pacing and incoherent blubbering. The Hulk felt a pang of fear as he watched the stress radiate off the archer, his mutterings too soft and jumbles for the Hulk's mind to really comprehend. He decided it would be best to stay quiet. Bruce agreed with him.

Another hour of pacing and the archer just kind of collapsed. He abruptly plopped down on the Hulks knee and buried his hands in his hair while letting his elbows rest on his knees.

"This really sucks." Clint said loud enough for Hulk to actually understand. However, Clint was allowed to continue waging his internal war without comment from the giant.

The way Clint saw it, he was doomed. He had fallen for a fugitive of the United States military, and that fugitive may or may not love him back. Hulk couldn't exactly elaborate on the kind of love that Bruce had for "cupid." But, God, Clint wanted to know _so badly. _

He had run ever scenario in his mind: one where he tells Bruce how he feels, one where he tells Bruce what the Hulk had told him, one where he just demonstrated how he felt, even one where he pretended it never happened, but nothing ended the way he wanted them too. Bruce was just too shy, too practical to actually be in love with Clint.

Even if he was, he would never let it go anywhere; not with the threat of him hurting Clint by accident looming over his head. Clint couldn't decide what hurt more: the fact that the man might love him and nothing Clint said would make it work, or that the man might only love him as a brother.

Clint felt himself relaxing into the heat radiating off of the Hulks knee and decided to think about it in the morning. He blocked out the miserable thoughts of confusing emotions and drifted off to sleep, cuddling with the Hulk.

Bruce woke up to light snoring and the gentle whir of the ventilation system. After assessing that he was on the floor and that he was still sore from the transformation that so often occurred while he slept, he noticed he wasn't alone.

Clint Barton was curled up on the floor next to him, one arm splayed out the side and the other curled under his head, which was resting on Bruce's hip. Bruce pinched himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming and tried desperately not to blush profusely.

When reality descended on him, his chest clenched painfully and he felt his heart rise into his throat. Clint had gone off to kill Ross; Clint would never have returned if he hadn't already completed his mission. He remembered the anger, the fierce fire he'd seen burning in the archer's eyes the night before; he's left before Clint could come up with a suitable argument.

He knew it was useless though. Clint was too good of a man to let his friends be prey to vultures like Ross. Bruce just feared the Hawk wouldn't be able to get out of a battle with a vulture unscathed. Bruce tried to think of a way to make Clint stay, to convince him that Ross wouldn't be a problem.

He had said that the attack on the tower had been a warning; perhaps he could convince Clint that Ross would actually try to take Bruce from such a public location. Then he could just run, after Clint had let his guard down a little. Bruce stopped at that thought; Clint had warned him about running.

Bruce thought back to when Betty had made a similar threat. He knew now that he hadn't really loved Betty that much, because he hadn't listened. The idea of running from Clint made his throat constrict dangerously with something more akin to sorrow than fear.

Bruce could try to convince him to run away with him. He'd never cower like that though; Clint was a warrior, not a coward. Coming to the realization that there was no way in which Bruce could get Clint to stay with him, He sighed deeply and stared at his hawk with a tortured expression.

"What are you staring at?" Clint murmured into Bruce's hip. He only lifted his head when Bruce jerked in surprise, dislodging Clint's comfortable figure. He grumbled something before starting to get up and getting a look at Bruce's red cheeks.

Bruce awkwardly pushed himself off the floor, training his eyes on the wall. "Sorry. I was just wondering why you were drooling on me."

"I fell asleep on the big guys lap; he had a bit of a temper tantrum after I left you here… I guess being held captive by your friends doesn't make it any easier for him." Clint seemed oddly expressive, cluing Bruce in that there was something off.

"Oh. Did something happen? He didn't hurt you did he?" Bruce's sudden surge of panic didn't go unnoticed by the archer who quickly stepped forward and shook his head no.

"No, no. We just…talked." Clint almost missed Bruce's raised eyebrow as he struggled to contain the urge to hug the panic out of Bruce's eyes.

"Ok. What'd you talk about?"

"Nothing really."

Clint could see the agitation building on Bruce's face. "I don't believe you."

"Not my problem." His normal façade seemed to be exacerbating things.

"I have a right to know." Bruce fixed Clint with that pleading gaze that he normally reserved for dire situations. _Mother Fucker, _Clint internally cursed the effectiveness of that stare and tried to focus on anything but the heartfelt plea. "Clint…"

And just like that, he was done for. He sucked in a huge breath and studiously examined the floor. Bruce felt a pang of guilt when Clint's mask fell, leaving an expression of sorrow and conflict in its wake. "He told me… he said… you… like… me."

All the air in Bruce's lungs just kind of rushes out at once; Clint meets his eyes for less than a second to see that they had blown up to saucer size and his mouth was hanging open as well.

"Yeah, it was weird. I love you too though... like a brother. Lots of… brotherly, um, love. Yeah." Clint swallowed his misery and did his very best fake smile, hoping that Bruce wouldn't see through it for once. He turned to get his briefcase, hoping that having something to do with his hands would make the whole agonizing experience easier.

_Just don't look at him. We'll laugh it off, and go back to the way it was before. You don't have to notice how great his chest looks or how soft his hair looks. Who cares if his lip's split from the transformation? Not me. Oh fuck, who am I kidding? _

Clint was knocked out of his reverie when Bruce's hand landed gently on his shoulder. "You know that's not what he meant." The dark expression on Bruce's face made his pulse spike. Sultry brown eyes stared down at Clint while searing body heat slipped through the thin fabric of his shirt onto his shoulder.

Bruce had previously had every intention of denying everything, pretending he didn't feel anything for Clint so they could continue their friendship. Logically, it was just too dangerous to have a relationship. Giving someone as powerful as Bruce someone to love is a very stupid thing to do. He would tear the world apart for one kiss.

Thankfully, he didn't have to.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Love is a Great Motivator

To say that the kiss was a shock to Clint was a gross understatement. To say that he wasn't overwhelmed and elated by the kiss would be downright lie. He threw every part of himself into that kiss, like it was the only thing keeping him on Earth.

Bruce was like fire to Clint, essential and beautiful while being hot and untouchable. But they were touching, and Clint could feel Bruce burning him up, consuming him.

Not that he minded at all.

They moved together seamlessly, fitting together like puzzle pieces. Bruce was rusty where Clint was experienced and Bruce was passionate where Clint was controlled. Before he knew what was happening, he had Bruce pressed against a wall and was running his fingers through his scrumptious, brown locks. They were even softer than he imagined they'd be.

Bruce couldn't even come up with words to describe Clint in that moment. It was oddly ironic how poetic Clint's thoughts were while the always eloquent doctor was left speechless. He didn't mind though, being able to turn off his mind was a blessing in more ways than one.

Clint pressed for more, bringing more passion to the kiss with a simple nimble on Bruce's bottom lip. It was enough to make Bruce growl, becoming more aggressive in the kiss. Clint was surprised and allowed himself to shoved unceremoniously back against the wall. Bruce could tell he didn't mind by the way he melted into the cage of the taller man's arms.

He was the first to pull away, fear entering his brain sluggishly as the beeping from his watch entered his consciousness. He took several gulping breaths and tried to focus unsuccessfully on getting his heart rate down. Clint ducked his head into the curve of his neck, letting his hot breaths brush over Bruce's sensitive skin.

"I love you." Bruce had to think for a minute to realize it was his voice that had broken the silence. His chest clenched in anticipation as Clint's breath hitched.

Clint looked up to see pure and unrelenting sincerity in the doctor's eyes and felt something break in him. He struggled to breathe normally and keep the crushing sadness off of his face, already mourning.

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and hurt threatened to overtake his eyes. "Clint?"

"I'm sorry, Bruce." Bruce never saw the tranquilizer dart come out of the archer's belt, but he felt it enter his hip with a nearly painless jab. The fearfully confused and utterly betrayed face Bruce gave him made him hate himself. "I'm sorry. I just want you to be safe."

Clint gently lowered Bruce to the ground, struggling to maintain a neutral expression. Bruce had a forlorn expression that Clint found himself flinching away from. It wasn't disappointment, but horror. "Clint," Bruce's eyes fluttered as he struggled to stay conscious. "Don't…" Clint almost wished Bruce would have stayed awake long enough to argue with him, to tell him that he was being stupid.

Clint had planned this; neither Bruce nor the Hulk would have let him leave with the whole situation in mind. Even knowing the inevitability of his capture without the Hawk's interference, he wouldn't have let Clint put himself in danger. The thought had warmed his heart while sending a chill of terror down his spine.

He needed to keep Bruce safe.

Bruce had figured this out during his last seconds of consciousness; he had understood the look of loss in Clint's eyes and the reason behind his betrayal. He would have given everything that he had to keep Bruce safe before; now that he knew Bruce loved him, he would have given everything that anyone had to keep him safe.

Giving someone as powerful as Clint someone to love was a very stupid thing to do. Bruce only wished he'd thought of it before.

Clint gently kissed Bruce one last time as he swept his brown curls away from his forehead. "I love you more." Clint stood; the loving expression he reserved for Bruce melting into an impenetrable façade as his knees and back straightened.

He grabbed his briefcase and headed for the door, pulling a hand through his short hair before looking at the message Stark had sent him one last time. _Ross mobilizing. You need to lock to lock the gym down. _

He opened the only door and went through the security checkpoints, overwriting the protocols as he went. No one could get into that building. At least, not unless they got the code from Clint first.

Clint realized Stark would have no problem hacking Jarvis, but the military wouldn't be able to do it. He strutted out into the parking lot, knowing full well that Ross would be waiting for him. He was a little disappointed when the general himself didn't show.

"Agent Barton, the United States Military requests that you escort us into the facility to retrieve government property." A large group of soldiers stood, motionless, in front of Clint's car. They were headed by an almost scrawny looking lieutenant, who had barked out the statement like an order.

"Request denied." Clint discreetly pressed the panic button on his StarkPhone (a feature installed at the behest of Steve, who had thought being able to easily alert every avenger that there was a dire situation was the most amazing thing on planet Earth). He wondered idly how long it would take Stark to get there; he doubted Thor would get there anytime soon, though he would almost prefer to have the god by his side, just for sheer intimidation value.

"I'm afraid I can't accept that answer, sir." The lieutenant tried to stare Barton down, finding the agents baleful glare a little too intimidating to be successful. He changed tactics. "General Ross wanted to express his sincerest apologies for any inconvenience, and wanted to assert that it would be compensated graciously." The officer raised an eyebrow, as if waiting for the prospect of money to peak the Hawk's interest.

Clint didn't reply, just continued to glare at the young officer, who seemed to be having trouble remaining calm. He gave a pointed look to one of his underlings, who promptly stepped forward to address the archer.

"Sir, if you do not escort us into the building we will take it by force." Clint snorted loudly at the threat. Much to his satisfaction, the lower ranking officer flinched away from the noise.

"This building was specifically designed to withstand the Hulk in a rage. You really think that you can 'force' your way in?" The officer seemed to be gritting his teeth, the tick in his jaw working furiously. He nodded once, a signal that would have confused Clint had he not been waiting for them to attack.

It felt like the entire world descended on the archer. They had a lot more forces waiting in the wings than he's anticipated. He put up a fight, taking out more soldiers than he should have been able too.

They didn't know that he could have killed every last one of them if he hadn't been planning on capture. He let one lucky soldiers think he had an advantage and was taken into custody, a smirk playing on his lips. The Avengers watched from an adjacent roof with concerned faces. They knew what he was doing, but they didn't like it.

"Comrades, I fear that this plan may not be as wise as we thought." Thor ran a worried hand through his beard, fearing for his friend.

Steve turned his worried blue eyes to Tony. "What if they kill him before he can get to Ross?"

Natasha shook her head at him. "Barton never misses his target."

_Authors note: Dramatic chapter is dramatic. Sorry, I just had to throw some martyrdom in there; how better to counter the cuteness? Yeah, you hate me; I know. Reviews are always appreciated and will be met by generous awards. ~CQA_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Martyrdom And Stupidity Are Synonyms.

"I have trouble believing that you'd be so stupid." The military officer stared at Barton incredulously. Even swinging from the sealing by his wrists, the smile stayed plastered on his face.

"Why? You think a regular guy like me would suspect you'd resort to torture if I told you I had the one and only way in and no one knew where I was?" Barton's cheeky grin almost made the officer want to laugh. He couldn't shake the menacing intelligence in the agent's eyes though.

"I know a predator when I see one. What do you have up your sleeve, Barton? Just tell me so this doesn't have to get ugly."

"I have a dagger up my left sleeve and an explosive arrow tip up my right sleeve. Your guys really suck at patting people down." Unsurprisingly, he was knocked out. Again.

The sedatives in the tranquilizer arrow Clint used on Bruce should have lasted for at least six hours, even with the Hulk's metabolism. Bruce didn't really care how long the archer had intended to keep him under though. In fact, he doubted there was anything in the whole world he was less concerned about. Bruce wasn't feeling a whole lot of concern for anything, actually.

He was pissed.

Bruce Banner hadn't felt this angry since he had been turned into the Hulk. If there was anything in the entire planet that he could hate more than needless stupidity, he prayed he never found it, because it probably wouldn't last very long.

Bruce had always thought that stupidity and martyrdom were synonyms.

Bruce was surprised he hadn't hulked out. He was pounding away at the key board attached to the control panel of the exit. He could say with complete honesty that Jarvis was the smartest computer on planet Earth; he had been trying to hack it for nigh to two hours.

Some might say two hours in nothing in the world of hacking, but when you've got a Hulk pounding at the back of your brain and you're trying really hard not to punch your way through a wall, it's an eternity.

All the while, Bruce was trying to convince himself that Clint was not going to be in any danger. He probably had some "ingenious" plan that he was no doubt executing flawlessly as he struggled to get out of his cage. Bruce couldn't bring himself to doubt the archer's abilities, even after his dumb moves thus far.

Bruce had watched Ross' men capture the Hawk outside of the facility before he'd begun his hack of Jarvis. He knew that Clint could have gotten out of that unscathed is he'd been trying to. He also knew that he'd alerted the rest of the avengers, so they must have been waiting in the wings somewhere.

He felt another wave of rage at the thought of them allowing him to go through with such a stupid plan. _Why can't he just kill Ross the old fashion way? Oh right, he's a protective idiot who feels the need to exact revenge on my behalf via ripping the general apart with his bare hands. _

_Yeah, that sounds like something Clint would do. _

Bruce shook his heads and continued to pound away at the keyboard, only to be redirected once more. He was about to throw the keyboard on the ground and just let the Hulk smash his way out, Tony's face appeared on the screen.

"Hey, big guy… I'm super sorry about this. Clint threatened to tell Steve about my collection if I didn't go along with it." Tony gave the scientists an oddly apologetic smile.

"Just let me out of here, Stark. I need to find that little… I need to get him out of there." Bruce focused on slowing his heart rate. The Hulk was angrier that Cupid was out of his grasps than being sedated. He didn't really seem to care about that. Bruce had to admit, most of his rage was directed at Ross for capturing him in the first place.

"I can't. His plan was actually pretty good, man. Plus, we're all helping so he's not alone in it. It's better if you just… chill… for… you're looking a little green, Brucie." Tony flinched away as Bruce tried to contain the Hulk, who was even more upset that the team was operating without him. He liked being part of the avengers.

"Let me out or I swear I will not stop until I've turned downgraded Jarvis to little more than an iPhone." Stark's eyes widened comically, and he put a hand up to his chest in shock.

"How dare you threaten my AI-computer-brain-child-butler that way?"

"Stark!" Bruce felt the exact moment when he lost control and Stark paled slightly, signing off so he wouldn't have watch the Hulk's reaction.

The Hulk's roar beat all of his previous records by a land slide.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Dumb Plans

"I'll make you a deal. You send in Ross, like in person, and I will give you the code. I just want to talk to him alone for a few seconds." Clint's request was met by yet another brutal punch to the stomach. "Ouch."

The officers had long since stopped trying to negotiate with him. At this point, they were just trying to hurt him until he begged them to let him redeem himself. It was taking every ounce of Clint's self control not to kill everyone in the room.

So, mostly they just hit him repeatedly. He could deal with that.

He couldn't deal with water boarding though. He had assumed that the United States Military was above such tactics and hadn't prepared for that possibility. He had been water boarded after a failed mission once before; he still had trouble going swimming. His captures couldn't have seen their fear if they had cared enough to look.

He let out a wolf whistle. "I'm impressed boys. I didn't think you had it in you." They hit him again. "Wow, this sure is going to be a fun time." They continued to pound away at his stomach; he punctuated each hit with a gasped, "fun. Fun. Fun. fun."

They were about to lower him to the water boarding table, much to his dismay, when the door opened and another man waltzed in. "String him back up, boys. We don't need to resort to this sort of atrocity." Clint smiled wickedly as he recognized that voice. _My hero_, he thought ironically.

"General! Thank you for finally joining us. See, now it's really a par-" Another punch to the solar plexus. "-ty."

"Please leave us for a moment." Ross gave his men a stern look, and they quickly scattered. He fixed his stare on Clint, who couldn't help but realize just how much crazy radiated from his small smile. "You're not looking very good, Barton."

Clint smiled at him as he watched his every movement, waiting for him to get just close enough. "Well, I feel great."

"Is that so?" They smiled at eachother, each sizing up the other. The general picked up a folder from a desk in the corner of the room. "You know, my computer people hav been essential useless recently, due to a certain billionaire's involvement. They were able to do something else though." He raised the folder to the level of his eye. "Your confidential SHIELD file."

Clint scoffed. "That's not my file. I've seen my file; it's fucking huge."

The general didn't smile or look away from the archer. His gaze was impatient and angry; he opened the folder. "The Loki incident." He drew out the statement, letting it sink in. "I like the term 'unmade.' It's almost poetic. Says here that Loki's imprisonment was a real… traumatic experience for you." Clint's face was carefully structured into a somber expression, keeping his eyes locked on the general. The general was giving him a smug look, knowing that he had something over the archer. "You know, I remember Bruce described the Hulk similarly. That lack of control, that feeling of being ripped out and having something else shoved in." He arched an eye brow at Clint. "That must have made for an interesting relationship. You must really relate with each other. Maybe he helped you get over being used and hurt by Loki?" He didn't seem to need an answer, because he barely even glanced at the archer before continuing. "He even got a little revenge for you, didn't he? He hurt Loki when no one would let you."

"You know, I don't think SHIELD's going to be too thrilled that you stole their files." Clint's somber expression stayed in place even as he tried to lighten the mood.

The general continued as if Clint hadn't spoken. "I bet that's why you're here. You don't want him to be used by us so you're playing the martyr. It's really heartwarming. You guys would have made a good team; a fighter and a runner, a martyr and a coward. Opposites attract they say."

Clint couldn't help but admire the general's interrogation techniques. He chuckled and let his head droop a little. His giggles rose in volume a little as he raised his head and looked the general in the eye. "Very astute observations, General. However, I'm not here as a martyr." Clint let that sink in for a second before he moved, grabbing the chains holding his up and using them to swing his legs up. Thank god Natasha had finally taught him that thigh trap move.

As Clint twisted his hips and heard the general's neck snap he said, "I'm here as an assassin." The general's body fell into a crumpled mess on the floor, and Clint took a moment to admire his handy work. The other avengers were watching through the video feed that Jarvis had hacked into. He decided that he'd rather wait for rescue than try to chew through the chains. He let himself relax and feel the pain, knowing that he'd done his part and that he had to rely on his team to get him out.

He was only partially surprised when Bruce came strolling through the door instead.

He could see by the sheen of sweat and the presence of his battle suit that Bruce had recently de-hulked. He must have smashed his way through the small outpost to get to him. Clint flinched a little from Bruce's glare. "Having fun?" Bruce asked with out relenting in his glare.

"Yeah… I'm really sorry." Clint flinched away as Bruce crossed his arms over his chest.

"If I hadn't heard Ross' whole spiel, I would have to lecture on the stupidity of martyrdom. I guess that you're plan wasn't as bad as I thought."

"I'm not dumb. The whole team has been helping me out. Natasha even snuck in and gave me pain killers earlier." Clint gave him a chagrinned smile and shifted uncomfortably in his chains.

"That's comforting. If only you'd thought to ask for my help too instead of sedating me." Bruce's eyes flashed a little green.

"I said I was sorry." Clint mumbled to the floor. He jerked in surprise when Bruce started unlocking the manacles that held him suspended by his wrists.

"Do it again and the other guy might have to crush you."

Clint met Bruce's eyes and smiled, knowing he was forgiven. He leaned forward and kissed him lightly. Bruce pulled back with a mischievous glint in his eye; suddenly, Clint's wrists were free, and he went crashing to the floor.

"Ouch."


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note: Alright. This is it. This is the end. I hope you guys liked it. I'm hoping to make a Stony fic soon too so feel free to stalk me if you'd like to. Thanks a lot for the reviews, and I hope to get more from you guys on different stories in the future. _

Chapter Nine: Anticlimactic Rescues and Stuff

"I'm just saying that you should have a little more faith in me." Clint sniffed slightly as he limped is way toward the next set of double doors. He checked to make sure the coast was clear before starting forward. Bruce was hovering close behind, ready to support Clint if he needed it. He still felt bad for dropping the man from the ceiling.

"I have every confidence in you, Clint." Bruce was quiet and calm as he surveyed the wrecked hallway; he had been happy to see that a majority of the personnel had run rather than try to fight the Hulk, so no one had been badly hurt.

"Then why are you mad?" Clint waved his arms to emphasize his vexation, only to be blindsided by the soreness in his shoulders. He let out a small groan and cursed. He had to wave off Bruce when he stepped closer, his face tied up in misery at the sight of Clint in pain.

"I _was_ mad, because you sedated me. During our first kiss no less."

"Oh."

"It's ok. You're forgiven." Bruce gave him a reassuring smile and moved forward to check the next hallway for enemies. He was confronted instead by Iron Man.

"Brucie!" He said nervously. "You got out…" He chuckled and rubbed his hand over the back of his helmet. Bruce burst out laughing and wacked Stark on the back.

"So, you're the cavalry?" Bruce asked with an amused smile.

"No, actually. The cavalry was the entire team. We were ready to go when Ross died, but Cranky the pirate wonder showed up. I was the obvious candidate to ignore his orders so… He didn't want his super boy band involved with this situation."

Bruce looked very angry, very suddenly. "He didn't want the avengers to come in and rescue his best assassin? What happened to the whole team bond building?"

"Calm down, big guy. He just didn't want the avengers to be implicated in a crime, like killing a four star general. He knows I could have gotten out even without help." Clint patted Bruce on the shoulder, much to the dismay of his sore shoulder joint.

Bruce grumbled but started to calm down. He turned to Clint and relaxed a little more. Wiping away a drop of blood under the archer's eye, Bruce let out a tired sigh. "Let's go home."

Bruce was shaking as he stared down the SHIELD doctor that was overseeing Clint's treatment. The hapless doctor was shying away, ready to run screaming, as Bruce tried to control his breathing. The tips of his knuckles were already green. "Give. Me. The. Chart."

The doctor, who had previously declined to share Clint's medical records, happily, gleefully even, handed over the clip board and made a break for it. He scurried down the hall and advised the SHIELD nurses to stay out of the Hawk's room for a while.

As Bruce made his way to Clint's room, he carefully read the file. His disbelief mounted with every step; by the time he made it to the sterile hospital room, he was shaking more than before and struggling to breath properly.

He stopped in the middle of Clint's room, mouth agape, nose still in the file. "How the hell were you walking?" Clint flinched away from the horrified look in Bruce's eyes.

"I've had worse?" He shied away from Bruce slightly, hoping that the extent of his injuries would incite the doctor's wrath.

"They fractured your hip and dislocated both your shoulders. Oh my god, Clint, you have five broken ribs?"

"Hey, hey. It doesn't even hurt. This is nothing. At least they never got around to the water boarding." Clint stopped and groaned internally at his stupidity. Why would he _say_ that?

Bruce's eyes widen to the size of saucers. "Water boarding?" He practically squeaked. Clint chewed on his lip and gave the doctor his best apologetic smile.

"This is my job, Bruce. This happens to agents all the time." Clint felt a jolt of fear at the thought that Bruce wouldn't be able to handle the risks of his job. He knew deep in his heart that if Bruce left, it would break him irreparably. Bruce just stared for a minute before he walked over the bed and dropped to his knees, clasping one of the archers rough hands in both of his own and resting his head on them.

He stayed like that for a while, basking in the relief of having Clint safe with him once more. He hadn't realized just how scared he'd been until that moment. He concentrated on the steady pulse against his forehead and thanked the powers that be for letting his hawk come home safe. Clint ran a gentle hand through the scientist's soft curls.

When Bruce finally lifted his head, his eyes were filled with an unfamiliar, but entirely welcome, warmth that would only ever be seen by Clint. He smiled at Clint with a hint of relief in the set of his eyes. "It's part of who you are, and I love you for who you are. Just know that if ever you're in a situation you can't get out of, the other guy and I will be there to get you out of it."

Clint's smile was dazzling to say the least. He pulled the doctor in for a gentle kiss. His lips barely grazed Bruce's, but it carried every ounce of emotion Clint had ever tried to hold back and sent shivers down the doctor's hunched spine.

"I love you more."

Outside the hospital room, the other avenger's watched with bright smiles. Steve smiled slightly and leaned into Tony, giving the genius a loving push. Thor gave a rotund laugh that would have shaken the building if it was less stable.

"This is a momentous occasion, friends. Our brethren have finally found each other."

"Yeah, finally. They've been dancing around each other for long enough. I was starting to think they would never figure it out." Tony smirked and crossed his arms while he watched the couple through the small window, trying to hide the hints of a genuine smile in his eyes.

Natasha snorted, her eyes equally glued to the happy interior of the room. "Yeah, right. Barton never misses his target."


End file.
